


You Can’t Kill A Stone

by ninemoons42



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Inception (2010)
Genre: Horror, M/M, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Television Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-18
Updated: 2011-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:36:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Arthur's first time in the world of Doctor Who - courtesy of Eames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can’t Kill A Stone

  
title: You Can’t Kill A Stone  
Written for [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/harlequincepted/profile)[**harlequincepted**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/harlequincepted/) \- Theme Number Two, First Times. Though I might have taken that theme a little TOO weirdly.  
author: [](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**ninemoons42**](http://ninemoons42.dreamwidth.org/)  
pairing: implied Arthur/Eames.  
warnings: Doctor Who geekery. More importantly: the motherfucking Weeping Angels. No, there are no images of them here. But for a lot of people they might be triggery, so. And there is a comparison made between Arthur and the Angels. Unbeta'd.  
disclaimer: I don't own the original story or the characters. Not making any profit, just playing in the sandbox.  
summary: This is Arthur's first time in the world of Doctor Who - courtesy of Eames.

  
“Eames. Is there a particular reason why you’re leaving the lights on?”

I look up and there is Arthur. I smile at him. “So you’re done with the files, then?”

“Cross-referenced and everything,” he says, and he comes into the room and he’s taking off his socks, he’s unknotting his tie, he’s putting his hands through his hair. “Answer the question.”

“I’m having a night in with the Doctor.”

“So? You usually turn the lights off when you’re doing that.”

“I can’t do that for this one,” I say, and I look down at the DVD case in my hand.

Believe it or not, this is actually work. There’s a job, and for some unfortunately strange reason which I do not care to find out more about, this mark loves David Tennant, to the point of distraction. Guess who’s been tasked with forging him.

I’ve been going back through my collection, and last night, I stopped after “The Family of Blood”. For a while there I was glad I didn’t dream much any more because I would have wound up dreaming of the eternal punishments the family members received, and – brr.

But it gets worse, because I know exactly what the next episode is.

And Arthur’s never seen Doctor Who before.

So.

“You wouldn’t want to watch with me?” I ask, and offer him some popcorn.

“If you’re looking for someone to grab because things get scary....”

“Oh, you’ve never heard the phrase _watch from behind the sofa_ before. Every episode of Doctor Who is scary, Arthur, generations of families have watched the show while peeking ’round a corner or through their fingers. This one just happens to have a lot of extra scary in it. Good practice for fighting projections, actually.” I think I’m babbling now. I think I’m actually still scared of what’s going to happen in the next episode.

But here’s Arthur and he’s sitting next to me and he’s eating my popcorn.

Am I really going to make him watch this episode?

I almost want to skip ahead to something more viewer-friendly.

But he’s taking the controller from me and he’s pressing play.

I look over my shoulder. I’ve closed all the windows, drawn all the curtains. I don’t keep any statues or photos in here.

Cue cold open. Meet Sally Sparrow.

“Beware the Weeping Angels.”

Arthur jumps, a little, when the ceramic pot comes sailing out of nowhere, and Sally just manages to duck.

When the first Angel shows up on screen I have to put down the popcorn.

“The Angels have the phone box.”

I wonder how long before Arthur twigs -

“Oh, shit,” he whispers, suddenly. And he touches my arm. “Eames. Eames? Pause.”

I do, and I turn to him. Wild-eyed. He’s really in the episode. “Eames. We count as observers. The audience counts as an observer. Right?”

And I don’t answer. I let the Doctor explain: “They’re quantum-locked. They don’t exist when they’re being observed.”

“Oh, shit!” Arthur says again.

I’m about to dive behind the nearest armchair myself.

I always hate the end of that video message.

“ _Don’t_ turn your back, _don’t_ look away, and _don’t blink_. … Good luck.”

Arthur’s knuckles turn slowly white; he balls his hands into fists. I have been sitting on my hands for the past few minutes.

He is silent and he watches the rest of the episode with an eerily familiar concentration. I’ve seen it before. Normally he’s the one everyone else is afraid of, he’s the ultimate point man – he’s the ultimate bogeyman, for any mark he’s going after.

In the world of Doctor Who, the Weeping Angels serve the same purpose: the ultimate monster, the monster all other monsters are afraid of. Excepting perhaps the Daleks, who can reduce not only the Doctor but his myriad companions to tears. My theory is, in a standoff, the Angels would still have the element of surprise. Daleks announce themselves without fail: “EX-TER-MI-NATE!” Weeping Angels don’t.

We’re silent, for a long time, after the final thirty seconds of the episode, and only Arthur moves, and he pauses the DVD. I watch his mouth work. Finally, he shakes off the paranoia and – he smiles.

“That was pretty amazing.”

I grin at him. It feels like I can breathe again. “It was, wasn’t it? And they come back. We haven’t seen the last of the Angels.”

“Sounds good,” Arthur says, and chuckles, and wades back into the popcorn. “After this job do you think we can watch the rest?”

I grin at him. I can’t help it. “Definitely. I’ll have you hiding behind the sofa yet.”

And Arthur laughs.  



End file.
